


Who Says You Aren't, Still?

by sherific



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherific/pseuds/sherific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I used to be smart. I used to have perfect grades, and I was ready to apply to a prestigious school. I used to have confidence that was so bright that people would say that I was a brilliant boy, and applaud me. I don’t know what happened. I used to be smart, I swear. But somehow I ended up working an understaffed coffee shop while my boyfriend studies classics. I don’t wake up happy anymore. There are a lot of books in my room still, but I don’t feel good enough to read them anymore. I used to be smart. But I guess not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I used to be smart. I used to have perfect grades, and I was ready to apply to a prestigious school. I used to have confidence that was so bright that people would say that I was a brilliant boy, and applaud me. I don’t know what happened. I used to be smart, I swear. But somehow I ended up working an understaffed coffee shop while my boyfriend studies classics. I don’t wake up happy anymore. There are a lot of books in my room still, but I don’t feel good enough to read them anymore. I used to be smart. But I guess not.

…..

            My boyfriend comes to visit every winter break. He says that he can’t spend Christmas without me. His name is Achilles, and we met when we were in eighth grade. We fell in love in freshman year of high school, when I began to cry about how hard high school was and he took me aside and told me that he was worried about me. He hugged me, and since then he hasn’t let me go. Achilles was perfect like I was, but he had a better time of keeping up his grades. He got into my dream school, and started pursuing my dream major. He told me that he wishes I was there. It only hurt me more to hear that. But now it’s winter break for the third year in a row, and he has come down with a big teddy bear that he says he won in a machine at the airport. The bell of the café door jingles, and I look up. I smile.

            “Hey,” I say.

            He sets the bear down on the counter and embraces me. I feel like it’s freshman year again, and we have just fallen in love. “How are you, Pat?” he whispers.

            “Okay. Okay.”

…..

            I take him home. I still live with my parents, and my walk home is always with my head down. Achilles holds my hand, and he doesn’t say anything. After dinner, we huddle up in my room full of books and we talk. Achilles tells me about his life, how much he loves his school and his studies but how much it is not so nice without me there. I nod, despite my envy. When he asks me how my life is, with his shimmering smile, my throat closes and I don’t say anything. When the lights are out, and we’re both squeezed onto my twin-sized bed, I speak.

            “I used to be smart.”

            He strokes my hair. His hand is warm and strong, thick with muscle from taking copious notes. He presses his lips to my ear. “Who says you aren’t still?”

            I don’t answer. It should be obvious, by now.

…..

            On Christmas Eve, my boss closes the café, so I have a day off. Achilles wants to go out and do something “fun.” By this he means ice skating or seeing a movie. It seems childish to me. I tell him no, and that I would rather just stay in bed. I work ten hours a day. I am tired more than anything. Achilles picks up one of my books and starts reading.

            “This is incredible!” he exclaims after a while. “Have you read this, Pat?”

            “No.”

            He face falls a little. “Oh. Well it reminds me of-” The title he rattles off is long, and I can barely absorb it. “We read it in school,” he concludes finally.

            “Oh,” is all I say.

            I bury my face in my pillow. I don’t want him to see that I am not happy for him. My whole body begins to rattle. I feel like an earthquake. I hear him set the book down, and I feel his arm stretch across my back, his body pressing into me.

            “What’s the matter, Pat?” he asks.

            “I used to be smart,” I moan.

            He takes me in his arms like I am a cat. I curl up. “Now, now,” he sings. “Who says you aren’t still?”

            I close my eyes. I just cannot stop shaking.


	2. Chapter 2

I think back a lot, to my sophomore year, when things were at their best. I took Achilles to winter formal with me, and I loved school. My classes were all going well, and I enjoyed learning. I used to tell everyone I met that I loved to learn. I used to be excited for college, because I wanted to learn more. Achilles smiled every day when I said that. He told me he was really proud of me, that I had overcome my rough transition freshman year. I was proud of myself. I think about now how temporary that was. I remember signing up for my junior year courses and being excited to learn even more. I thought I would have fun. I think back then to my third quarter of junior year. My grades were dropping more quickly than leaves in the autumn. Achilles, on the other hand, was excelling. He was awarded with Cum Laude, and he was at the top of our class. I wanted to be happy for him, but he told me that it was understandable why I wasn’t. I wanted the Cum Laude too, but I was falling too far behind. I can’t remember what happened after that. I just remember that I didn’t submit any college applications and that I no longer wanted to be a college professor. Achilles told me he was so worried about me. He told me I shouldn’t just give up like that, that my dreams weren’t dependent on my grades. I don’t remember what I said to him. I just remember that he had said it all too late.

…..

            “Come on, sunshine, you can’t stay in bed all day!”

            I moan and keep my face in the pillow. Achilles shakes me, as if I am still asleep. “I don’t want to get up,” I groan.

            He sighs. “Fine then. I’m going out.”

            “Where?”

            “I don’t know,” he replies sourly.            

            I slowly prop myself up. “Achilles,” I say. “Don’t be like that.”

            “Then you don’t be like that. You’re acting like a little kid, Pat. I get that you’re still sad about how everything worked out, but that was three years ago. I keep telling you that if you want something, you ought to just go out and get it.”

            “Easy for you to say,” I grumble, pulling on my clothes.

            Achilles softens and puts his big hand on my head. “You know, Pat,” he whispers. “I worry about you.”

            I shrug. I can feel tears coming.

            “You deserve better than this, Pat.”

            “Yeah,” I say, “but no one else seems to think so.”

…..

            I finally work up the strength to take a walk with Achilles around my neighborhood. By now it’s evening and the sun has already set. I generally like to be cozy inside this time of day, but I want to make sure Achilles has a good stay. I bundle up, and he and I share a scarf. I think he wants me to get my mind off things, off a three year bitterness that’s worse than the strongest coffee. He points out cute dogs and cute girls and cute boys and cute snowmen and cute Christmas decorations. He takes joy in the world as it is. I think that is part of the reason why he does so well in it.

            “Your neighborhood is always so charming, Pat,” he sighs.

            “Yeah.”

            He squeezes my hand, and keeps quiet after that. It must be really hard on him. I’ve changed a lot since high school, he tells me. He doesn’t specify, but I know what he’s referring to. I want to thank him for his devotion to me and our relationship, but before I can, he pulls me aside and tells me that he wants to marry me. It is nothing formal, nothing of a big deal. There is no ring. He just knows I like to think on things slowly.

            “Maybe,” I say. I don’t feel like I am ready. I am still stuck in my failure of a junior year.

            “You think about it,” he says. He doesn’t sound disappointed, and for that I am grateful.

            For the rest of the night, I think about us. Anyone would say it would be incredible to marry someone like Achilles, and I think so too. But I also think about the reverse. I don’t think many people would say it would be incredible to marry someone like myself. I have no college education, nor do I have a well-paying job. I struggle with depression more often than not, and sometimes I find it difficult to reciprocate the love that Achilles has given me. Sometimes I wonder why he even loves me in the first place. I never believed it would last past high school. But like many other things, what I thought in high school was always far from the truth. Perhaps in a few days, I will ask him why. But for now, I don’t wish to spoil his mood any more than I have, especially given the holiday.

            When we get home, I let him have the shower. I wait on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing. When he comes out, steam billows out from the bathroom, and his hair is still dripping.

            “Don’t get any of my books wet,” I say.

            “Yeah, yeah.” He wraps up his yellow locks in a towel. “Going to shower tonight?”

            “I like to shower in the morning.”

            “Ah, how could I forget?” He sits on the edge of the bed.

            “Is there anything particular you’d like to do tonight?” I glance over at him.

            He gives me an innocent smile. “No, not really.”

            “Really.” I say. I don’t believe him.

            “I know that it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, but I don’t want to do anything unless you do. And I get the feeling you aren’t in the mood.”

            I look away.

            “It’s okay, Pat. I promise.” He slips on a shirt. “Maybe some other time,” he says.

            This is another time I would like to thank him, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. He sits there at the edge of the bed, unraveling the towel from his head and combing his hair in silence. His eyes occasionally flicker to me, and every time I catch them, he smiles like a little kid, and I can’t help but crack a playful grin. Maybe this is why he wants to marry me.


	3. Chapter 3

            After Christmas, I have to go back to work. Achilles is kind enough to stop by every once in a while as he visits old friends from high school in the meantime. Even my boss knows him by now.

            “Welcome back, Achilles,” the old man greets, hobbling over to shake his hand.

            “How do you do, Mr. Sage?” Achilles shakes his hand firmly.

            “Not bad, not bad. And yourself? How’s school? Have a seat, young man.”

            I watch them as I dry off some dishes while waiting for the coffee to brew. They talk for a while about Achilles’ schoolwork and his future plans. Achilles reveals that he’s again at the top of the class and hopes to pursue a professorial job of some sort. Mr. Sage seems really happy for him. As he comes in to check on my progress, he claps me on the back.

            “Patroclus,” he says, the only one I know to use my full name, “you’ve got a fine man for yourself out there. He’s onto good things, you know?”

            I swallow. “Yes, I know.” I glance over the counter at Achilles, who smiles back at me sheepishly. There is something heavy weighing on me, and I cannot bring myself to smile back.

            Mr. Sage puts his hand back at his side. “Ah, you almost done with that coffee, son?”

            “Yeah, it should be done by now.”

            “Good, good. The morning rush should be in any time now.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Once the first customer comes in, Achilles gets up to leave. “See you later, Pat,” he says. “Hang in there.”

            “I have been for three years.” I try to sound like I’m joking, and I try to ease a smile onto my face. But we both know the reality, and he leaves with a little tinkle of the café bell.

…..

            I drive Achilles to the airport after New Year’s. He is glum, and tells me he doesn’t want to go. I tell him that I feel the same way, but that school is also important. What I don’t mention is my anger that he takes so lightly what I failed to achieve. I try to push it aside, for his sake. After he checks his bag, he turns to face me.

            “Any thoughts about…”

            He doesn’t have to finish. “Still thinking,” I say, scratching my head.

            He exhales. I’m not sure it’s relief, but it’s something. “It’s okay, Pat. Take your time.”

            “Thank you, Achilles.” I feel my own relief at finally being able to say that.

            He tilts my chin up and kisses me. “See you for spring break.”

            “Yeah.” I hug him.

            “I worry about you, Pat.”

            “Don’t,” I say, but inside I still want him to.

            After that, he is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Apparently, some hot shot family is moving in next door to me. They’re from some city called Troy, and they’re old money. Apparently, they have some business interests here. Naturally, my mom invites them over for dinner as a show of courtesy. I, as a member of the household, am required to attend.

            The family consists of the father, Priam, and the two sons, Hector and Paris, whose mother is currently away on a spa trip with her friends. Hector is about five years older than me, while Paris is just a year. Hector is going to take on the family business, and is already married to a beautiful woman named Andromache. Paris is also very successful as a semi-famous male model who happens to be dating the supermodel icon who goes simply by the name of Helen. Based on these descriptions, I am compelled to look nice for the dinner. When the doorbell chimes, I take it upon myself to answer.

            “Welcome,” I say, putting on my server’s smile.

            Priam sniffs, but Hector reaches out his hand. “Hector,” he says. “It’s a pleasure. This is my father, Priam, and my younger brother, Paris.”

            I shake all their hands. “Patroclus,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you come on in?”

            The dinner is stiff as any dinner with strangers is. My parents ask the usual questions, and the family is pleasant enough. But it is inevitable that the conversation turns and they ask the same.

            “So, Patroclus, where do you go to school?” Paris asks. His voice is gentler than I expected it to be, so I make the mistake of relaxing.

            “Oh, I don’t go to school,” I say as casually as I can. “I’m still figuring things out.”

            His well-groomed eyebrows raise in judgment. “Oh.”

            I try to shift the attention away from myself as soon as possible. “What about you?”

            “Oh, I go to Pelion University.” It’s Achilles school. “I’m going back tomorrow, after we finish settling in.”

            “Oh! What do you study?” my mom interjects.

            “Liberal arts,” he says, trying to hide his obvious pleasure at the attention he’s receiving.

            “You know,” my mom continues, “Pat’s boyfriend goes there.”

            I look away.

            “Really? What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

            “Achilles Pelides. He’s a classics major.”

            “Oh, Achilles.” The way he says it indicates disdain.

            “He’s at the top of his class, I hear,” Hector states, eyeing me. “Right, Patroclus?”

            “Yeah,” I say. I’ve put down my fork. I am suddenly full.

            “How did you two meet?”

            “Middle school,” I croak.

            Hector smiles patronizingly. “Cute. You know, Andromache and I met in middle school.”

            He begins to tell a sickeningly sweet story, to which my parents pay adoring attention. I listen here and there and pick up a few pieces. It seems they have a nice enough relationship, but the whole time I can feel Paris’ eyes on me. After dinner, we all walk them out. Paris lingers and chit-chats with my parents before moving on to me.

            “Thanks,” he says plainly.

            “You’re welcome,” I reply dryly. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

            “You know, I would never have thought that someone like you would be the one dating Achilles Pelides.”

            I shrug innocently, despite the ache in my chest. I smile. “He’s my one and only,” I say.

            “I don’t blame him. I’d like a cute little barista, myself.” He smiles condescendingly. “Good night.”

            Achilles calls later, while I’m undressing.

            “Hey, Pat.”

            “Hey.” My voice is like a frog’s.

            “Everything okay?”

            “Yeah.”

            While we talk, I look in the mirror. My brown hair looks like coffee, and so do my eyes. Plain, without milk or sugar. Bitter.

            “Pat?”

            “Hm?”

            “I thought about you today.”

            “Did you?” I shrug on a coffee-stained t-shirt.

            “Yeah. We’re translating the _Iliad_. They call you noble, you know.”

            I glance back in the mirror. My nametag from work rests right beneath it. I can hear Paris’ voice read it, while smirking at me and flirting with me like I was a cute puppy he found on the street. “I used to be, Achilles.”

            “Who says you aren’t still?” When I don’t answer, he only says, “Pat, I worry about you.”

            I hope he can’t hear me sobbing.


	5. Chapter 5

I see a familiar face in the shop the next morning. It’s Hector, wearing a nice pressed suit. He holds some papers in his hands. I assume it’s for work.

            “Good morning,” I greet. “On the way to the office?”

            “Sort of,” he says, smiling. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

            “It’s my second home,” I say. “What can I get for you?”

            “Just a plain coffee, black.”

            “Coming right up.”

            As I go over to the machine to start brewing, he takes a look around, examining walls and windows. I find it to be a bit eccentric.

            “Cute place,” he says finally.

            “Thank you,” I say, handing him the mug.

            He takes a sip thoughtfully. “It’s a shame, really. I didn’t know I was buying out a place like this.”

            I pause. “Hm?”

            He avoids my eyes. “You see, Paris needed a studio for his new company that he and Helen are setting up. As a brother, I just felt obligated to help him out.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I honestly had no idea… On paper this place just seemed like the perfect spot.”

            Before I could process what he’s saying, Mr. Sage walks out, shaking with a pen in his hand. “Are you Hector ummm…” He scratches his head, trying to recall his last name.

            “I am.” Hector simply pushes the papers toward him. “Just sign these, sir.”

            “Sure, sure.” Mr. Sage proceeds through slowly. After he finishes, he finally notices my presence. “Oh, Patroclus… I, uh…”

            I know what’s coming. “It’s okay,” I say, even though it isn’t. I try to keep my voice steady. “When?” is all I can muster.

            “Your last day is in two weeks, I’m afraid.”

            “Alright.” I smooth out my apron, and I get back to work.

Hector stands and walks over to the counter. “I’m really sorry about this, Patroclus.”

I only shrug. “I shouldn’t have been here, anyways,” I murmur.

He pats me on the back and he leaves. Though he has given my only hope away, I prefer him over his brother.

…..

            If I was smarter in my junior year, perhaps this wouldn’t affect me at all. But, because my grades fell, I had to get this job. It was inevitable that Fate, my old friend from high school, would take this away from me as well. I don’t want to tell my parents, I don’t even want to tell Achilles. For a few days, I just look out the window and see the huge house with Priam and Hector, the house that Paris will eventually return to. I don’t cry this time, I just think to myself that I used to be smart.

…..

            The night before my last day, I tell Achilles. My parents have heard through other sources, and have already asked me what I want to do. I give them no definitive answer, but I have the feeling that they want me to go back to school. I just go upstairs and call Achilles.

            “Pat?”

            I cannot say anything else. “Achilles, I lost my job.”

            “I’m sorry, Pat.”

            I’m glad he doesn’t ask how, but I explain it to him anyways.

            “Knowing Paris, he probably chose that spot specifically just because you worked there,” he says finally. “He doesn’t like me. So you’re guilty by association.”

            “Not just by that,” I say glumly. I remember his expression when I said I didn’t go to school.

            “Pat,” his voice softens. “Want me to fly down?”

            “No.”

            “Thanks for calling me, Pat.”

            I pause. My voice is breaking before I even open my mouth. “I used to be smart, Achilles.”

            Achilles pauses. “You know, Pat, I say you still are.”

            I hang up and listen to the phone beep.


	6. Chapter 6

I spend the following weeks in my room eating microwave dinners. My parents, out of their own thoughtfulness, don’t bother me. I don’t call Achilles or get dressed. I have so many books to read, but I don’t touch a single one. I am mildly satisfied with my microwave dinners, or so I tell myself. I think about high school, and I think about how Achilles wants to marry me. I reek because I have not showered in days. I don’t think that Achilles Pelides would want to marry me anymore. He probably would have, if I had turned out the way I was supposed to. In sophomore year, I was supposed to go to school with him and study with him. I was supposed to graduate high school Cum Laude with him, and people were supposed to tell me how brilliant of  a boy I was and how I was on to great things in my life. I was supposed to stop by the café on my last day of my high school job and have Mr. Sage clap me on the back and congratulate me and tell me how proud he was that I turned out so well. I was supposed to go to college with dreams of being a professor with Achilles. I was supposed to be someone Achilles would be proud to marry. I was supposed to be someone I was proud of. I was supposed to be smart. I really was.

…..

            While I am still sleeping, the door bursts open.

            “My gods.”

            It is Achilles. I would know his voice anywhere. I can hear him marching over, crushing week-old plastic microwave dinner containers as he goes. I pull the covers over my head. He pulls them right off, like tearing a piece of paper.

            “My gods, Pat.”

            I don’t look at him.

            “Get out of bed, Pat.” Before I can make a move, he grabs my arm and roughly pulls me up. I see his face now. His eyes and his nose are red and swollen. “My gods, Pat.” He covers his face with his hand. His shoulders start shaking. “Pat.” The bear he brought me for winter break is on the floor with a microwave curry stain on it. “Pat, I am so worried about you right now.” He is sobbing now. It is almost embarrassing for him. “I was going to yell at Paris and Hector,” he hiccups. “But I didn’t, because this isn’t their fault. My gods, Pat. You’re so smart and look. Look.”

            I shake my head. “I used to be smart…” I murmur.

            “Pat, you’re so smart.” He sniffles. “I’ve met so many goddamn people in college, Pat, and you’re smarter than all of them. Everything my professors say, you were saying in high school. I’ve heard some people’s master’s theses that are just things you came up with on the way home from school one day. Pat, I don’t understand why.”

            I look down. I have nothing to say to him. I feel guilty, now.

            “It used to be that you were the wise one. You were always less affected by your emotion than I was. When I was the one crying, you would give me good reasons not to. When I had trouble in school, you would always help. You were the one who made me smart, Pat.”

            I play with a microwave dinner with my toe. Angrily, Achilles yanks it from beneath my feet and throws it at the wall. “Goddammit, Patroclus!” he screams. It is a gritty and nasty sound. He watches the moldy food slide down the wall. Then he gets up. “Pat,” he says, “who says you aren’t smart still?” He leaves and he slams the door. I watch the moldy leftovers on the wall.

…..

            My mom comes up afterwards. By her swollen eyes, I know she has been crying too. She cleans up my room and draws me a bath. She doesn’t talk. I wonder if Achilles has left yet. I cannot feel how warm the bath is. I have been beyond feeling anything, lately.


	7. Chapter 7

I sleep downstairs on the couch that night, where my parents can watch me. My mom keeps the TV on, and my dad reads. The buzz of the shopping channel puts me to sleep. I wake up in the middle of the night. My parents are asleep. I silently rise and slip out the door and take a walk down to the former café. The windows are boarded up, and there’s a sign outside that reads “SOLD.” There is already white graffiti on it. I stand in front of it and just look. Then I call Achilles. I hear the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet, then I feel his arms snake around my waist, I feel his warm chest pressed to my back. He rests his chin on my shoulder. I pretend I am my namesake. If I were the Patroclus of old, I would have been fighting long and hard. My body would have ached. Achilles would have held me just this way, and we would look at the ocean together. I would be angry at Hector and angry at Paris, like I am now. But, the Patroclus of old would not have quit so easily. Achilles fidgets behind me, and he spins me around. I hear him call me noble. Perhaps I am not so different from the Patroclus of old.

…..

            I take a walk with Achilles a few weekends later. It is sunnier out now. My eyes are sore and I have a headache, but I tell him that I submitted my application to my community college. I worked on it all night. For once, I have an ounce of pride as I tell him. He smiles sunnily and picks me up and twirls me around. It is like we have just fallen in love. I feel light. I feel happy.

…..

            I’m well into my semester. I have begun to read the books that have piled up in my room. I forgot how much I loved turning pages. I call Achilles to tell him.

            “Pat?”

            “I love the smell of books.”

            “Isn’t it nice?”

            I smile the whole time. Things are not perfect. They are not as I dreamed of in high school. But things are well. I am proud of what I am doing. I cannot wait until it is winter again.

.....

            On Christmas Eve, Achilles takes me out around our neighborhood. I point out Priam, Hector, and Paris’ house. He looks at it and laughs. I smile. We keep walking. I hold his hand tightly in anticipation. When we round a corner, I pull him aside.

            “Achilles,” I say.

            “Pat,” he says.

            “Achilles, I want to marry you.”

            He smiles and he ruffles my hair. “I would say it’s about time.”

            I am nowhere near where I was supposed to be when I was a sophomore who read the _Iliad_ and thought about prestigious schools, but I am in college and I have a fiancé. The Patroclus of old would say that I have come a long way. I think that he would be proud.


End file.
